


In our blood and choices

by Celephais_imagination_33



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Anger Management, Blood Mages (Dragon Age), Boys Will Be Boys, Child Abuse, Child Death, Childhood Trauma, Circle Mages, Dark Fantasy, Heavy Angst, Homophobic Language, I swear it's not 100 percent angst, Mages (Dragon Age), Nice templars, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychological Horror, Shenanigans, Yes I am mean to my characters, elf racism, teasing gone wrong
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:42:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22576525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celephais_imagination_33/pseuds/Celephais_imagination_33
Summary: This is an original Dragon Age story.Korann is a caring and joyful young boy from Denerim who is about to discover that he is a mage. This will turn his world upside down. Follow his journey as he is sent to the Ferelden circle of magi, learns what life there is like and what truly defines who you are as a person.Meet original characters in the Thedas setting, a few decades before the fifth blight.Originally imagined as a back story for a role playing game of Dragon Age.Enjoy the angst. Updates every other week.
Collections: A Nod to the Original Characters





	1. Golden eyes

**Author's Note:**

> This prologue is inspired of lovecraftian horror. Enjoy.
> 
> I promise the rest won't be as scary.

Dark, cold, damp, hunger, trapped. This unending nightmare… it wasn’t the horrific smell, the forgotten light burning his eyes, the foreign markings on the walls, the mangled rotting bodies, or even the steel cage only big enough for a dog, that made this unbearable.

It was the man responsible for all of this. The man he thought he knew. The one he looked up to, that he adored, wanted so badly to impress. That this man could be proud of him, someday, was all he had ever hoped for. But now…

This man was a stranger. A monster wearing another’s face. How else could this nightmare be possible? 

The monster was sharpening a knife, whistling a tune he knew so well. A tune that used to soothe him. A tune that drove evil spirits from his mind. Now it sent shivers down his spine and tore his heart.

What would it be today? Another elf? Or would a mabari suffice? Please, please let it be a mabari. Please not someone today.

Shuffling through discarded elves and… He couldn't bare to look at her… or him… The monster drew near. The others in cages like him were trying to stay quiet, trying not to sob again. Some of the elven mothers clutching their babies were already begging for mercy.

The monster smirked, his voice calm and soft as satin. “Today I need something special. Something precious…” 

That bastard, he was enjoying this.

But he would stand up to the monster, his little hand touching hers through the bar of their miniature cages.

“Come with me sweetheart. It’s your turn.” Said the monster in sing song. 

Panicked, she went as far back in her cage as she could.

“No, no, no, NOOOO!  
-Leave her alone!! Stop!” He begged the monster. 

The tall man bent over to open her cage, dragging out a tiny girl no older than seven. She was crying, fighting, screaming. He was shaking his cage, trying to break free from it.

“Let her go!! Stop!! Don’t do this!! No!”

The monster didn’t care, he was so calm, unwavering, unrelenting, holding the little girl with just one hand. He dragged her to the table and strapped her to it. She was still screaming. The tall man, with no warning, raised a hand on her.

The whole room went silent, except for the little girl's sobbing. She hiccupped.

“… help… Maker, help…  
\- Allana!!! Allana!!!”

He turned to the man. “ Stop this please!! How could you!! Not her!! STOP!”

The monster carried on, starting to chant his blood ritual for power, his soulless golden eyes fixed upon his prey, hand raising his sacrificial knife.  
He was crying, not this again, not baby Allana.

“Stop, please!! FATHER STOP THIS!!!! FATHER!!”


	2. Bread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Korann, his friend and his loving family. He is my character for the table top rpg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my bunny <3 and aunt for the beta reading.  
> They help me so much with my bilingual and dyslexic brain.
> 
> For dyslexic readers, know that Firefox has an add on that allows you to change the type faces of websites to a dyslexic friendly type face, and it works on AOW.  
> Don't let dyslexia discourage you. We have awesome brains \o/

His golden eyes were fixed on her, insistent, stubborn.

“I said I don’t want it!“ She yelled a bit too loudly as she pushed away his hand.

Hidden in the gardens of the estate of the Arl of Redcliff in Denerim, were three young children. Two of them were brothers, the baker’s boys. The oldest, Korann, was seven. He had silky smooth warm brown hair, sun kissed skin for a southerner and playful, kind golden eyes. Korann had brought along with him his younger brother of five, Henric. He had much messier hair of a lighter hazel shade. His clear blue eyes were a bit more skittish than his older brother’s. Little Henric also had quite a few burns and blisters on his hands. The two boys looked very much alike. They smelled of fresh bread and their clothes were spotted with flour.

They had sneaked into the Arl’s garden to see their friend: a young elven girl of seven by the name of Filia. She had bright ginger locks and her wide, blue eyes, were always weary, always worried. Except when the boys would make her laugh. She had learned that at least these two human boys never wanted to hurt her. If anything, they had kept other more aggressive kids away from her. In Denerim, human children learn at a very young age that they can step on elves. But for some odd reason, the baker’s boys didn’t. Korann always kept an eye out from Henric and her. And for that she felt grateful, safe, happy. But this… This she didn’t want.

Korann had heard in the market that humans had gone in the alienage to steal what little the elves had. Filia’s mother had lost everything and was now working even harder at the Arl’s Estate just so she could at least feed her little girl. The elven child’s stomach hurt with hunger and now her friends were taking pity on her. She never wanted this. Never wanted to feel indebted to a human. Never wanted to feel how unfortunate, how different, how lesser she was next to her human friends. But Korann wouldn’t have any of it.

“Come on Filia, take it already. It’s all right, really.”  
“We brought it just for you…” added Henric.

The golden eyed boy held out his hand again to her, presenting her two fresh rolls of bread.

“You are out of your mind… the both of you! If anyone sees you…”  
“Fily, no one will see you if you wolf them down.” 

Oh maker, there he goes again, she thought. Korann was beaming at her.

She stared down at the bread he was holding. Her stomach was coiling with hunger and pain. She could already feel the warmth on her tongue. Filia looked up at the boy from under her thin eye lashes, worried. But Korann stayed calm and kind. He raised his hand a little more before she finally gave in. The young elf practically inhaled the bread rolls while the victorious brothers were smiling at each other. Now she felt embarrassed from such a savage display.

“-… thank you…”

Korann brushed off a few bread crumbs from her rosy cheeks, like he would for Henric. Filia blushed.

“Now that that’s done, come on! Let’s go!”

The baker’s boys took her hands and rushed her through the gardens. The both of them laughing and playing with her. She knew in her heart that she was safe with them.

The sun began to wane on Denerim. Filia’s mother came to pick her up and returned to the alienage while the boys went to find their mother, with the promise that they would meet again tomorrow.

The boys went to the market where their mother was selling the family baked artisanal bread. Bronwyn sighed as she rested her hands against her aching lower back, her belly full to bursting. Her long light hazel hair was tied up, breast heavy with milk and her tired face was a little puffy and pink. But even so, her clear blue eyes, weary from her long day, shone with her love for her children. She had already started to pack when her boys arrived to help, eager to make her happy. The neighboring stall owners were smiling at the heart warming affection of the little family. The butcher called out to Henric.

“So? Are you ready to be the big man now? You won’t be the little one anymore.”  
“He will always be the little one!” laughed Koran  
“No I won’t!!”

Their neighbors laughed with the children. 

The little Esson family headed home. Home was a little house in an inviting alleyway close to the docks, where the air was full of a salty evening sea breeze. There was still a bit of smoke coming from the chimney of the oven. Malcom, their father came out of the house to help them. His sons looked like him, his skin a bit darker. He was beaming at his little family. He kissed his wife and ruffled up his boys’ hair before freeing his wife’s hands and helping them in. 

That night, Malcom and Bronwyn kissed their boys good night. Korann was so excited, he was soon going to have another sibling. Boy or girl, he didn’t care. He couldn't wait for his loving family to grow. He had sweet dreams of the future. He could see his siblings and himself help out their parents, making and selling their bread in the market, laughing and smiling, with Filia too. Oh, he couldn't wait. 

The next morning, the little family woke up early, as usual, to make the day's bread. Bronwyn was having trouble keeping up with her husband so her boys eagerly pitched in to help, maybe a bit too eagerly. Henric was too small but he still tried to pull the bread from the oven. He reached in and burnt himself while his father wasn't looking, again. Henric cried out, clutching his hand. His mother rushed over to see the burn.

“Darling, I told you to be more careful around the oven. Let me see.”  
“We don’t have time for this. Korann take care of your brother,“ barked their father.

Korann pulled a teary Henric aside to another room. He brought him over to a bucket of cold water and had his clumsy little brother bathe his burnt hand in it.

“Henric, you can’t keep hurting yourself like that. You’re going to be the big man now, remember?“  
“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to… I-I’ll be the big man…” said Henric sobbing. 

The burn was worse than his previous ones. Korann took his brother's hand to have a better look. 

“Does it still hurt?”  
“Yes…”

Korann sighed and smiled at him.

“Alright, just… think about the snow. You like the winter snow right? Remember how cold it was? When we made snowballs with Fily…”  
“Yeah?”  
“Just think about that.”

Korann was just humoring his little brother. He’d seen his mother do it to Henric all the time. So why not give it a try? Korann and Henric thought of the crisp Denerim snow and the older brother brought his lips to the little one’s blister. He breathed out a cold cloud of smoke that soothed Henric’s burn, to both of their amazement. They stayed silent looking at each other, not entirely sure of what just had happened. Korann was dumbfounded and Henric's smile grew wider and wider. 

“Korann! It worked! Just like the winter snow! You did it, look!!”

The boy looked down at the blister. It was now covered with a fine coat of winter frost, glistening by candlelight. Korann was breathing hard, confused and disoriented, the cold smoke still coming from his mouth. He didn’t know how to stop it. Henric bolted up, holding his hand, and he ran back to their parents, overjoyed and excited.

“Ma! Pa! Look! Korann healed me!”  
“Henric wait!!” he said, dashing after his brother.

But it was already too late. Henric was showing his frosted blister to their parents. They had an unreadable expression on their faces as they looked at the healed burn and the cold coming from their son’s mouth. It didn’t help settle Korann who was breathing even harder now, which made the smoke fall even denser from his lips. He didn’t know what to do. Henric turned back to him. 

“It was AMAZING Korann ! So cool!! Is it magic? Is it?”  
“ENOUGH!” Their father snapped.

He pulled Henric and Bronwyn behind him, as if protecting them from Korann. His eldest looked at him, confused and scared. Why was he so scared? Why was their father so mad? Korann had never seen him so angry before. Malcom stepped forward, looming over the now terrified boy. 

“ A mage?! You?! How long have you known?!“  
“... I don’t…”  
“ANSWER ME BOY!”

Korann was now shaking and the cold frost coming from his lips finally stopped. He looked at his mother for help, but she was clutching Henric against her to keep him safe. Safe from whom? Korann ? Or Malcom? 

The golden eyed boy looked up to his father that he barely recognized. He felt like a stranger. 

“I… I just wanted to help him.”  
“How dare you use your filthy magic on your own brother… you disgusting faggot.”

Malcom had growled it out, with the most pure hatred that Korann had ever heard. And he had never heard his father curse. Korann’s heart sank as he looked at Henric who seemed as frightened as he did. 

“Pa… I…”  
“With eyes like yours I should have known…” Malcom cut him off. 

Korann didn't understand his words. He grabbed his son by his hair and dragged him out. Korann screamed and begged his mother for help, but she turned her back and clutched Henric even harder. Malcom didn’t say a word as he dragged him into the street and through the dark alleys of Denerim. Korann cried and begged for help, but nobody came. Malcom took him to a part of the city that he had never seen before. He was so scared and couldn’t stop crying. 

Malcom finally arrived at a dark house and banged on the door until a disgruntled man, stirred from his sleep, came to open the door. He looked at father and son confused, and Korann tried to stay quiet. 

“Malcom? The hell is this?”

Malcom pushed his way in, pulling Korann with him. He whimpered in pain when his father slammed him against the wall and kept him still against it.

“Wow! Hold on! Take it easy! What’s going on?”  
“He’s a mage!”  
“Maker…”

The man looked down at the young boy who didn’t dare look back at him.

“ - Why the hell did you bring him to me? Why didn’t you take him to the Chantry? You know there are always templars over there.”  
“I know and I will. But before that, I want you to tattoo his face.”  
“What?!” The man asked in horror. 

Korann couldn’t help but bursting into tears again. He didn’t know what was going on or why his father was being so cruel to him. His father's words kept breaking his heart. Everything had been fine. They were happy weren’t they? So why this? Why was everything falling apart?

“ - So that if he ever dares show his face again I will recognize him. So he will never hurt my family again.”  
“But Pa, I would nev-!”

Malcom socked his own son right in the stomach without even trying to hold back. Korann fell to his knees and curled up on the floor, reeling from the pain. Everything hurt. Everything. He wasn’t family anymore? 

The man didn’t know what to do in the face of such abuse. Malcom snapped at him.

“ Get to work! I will pay you after I bring him to the Chantry.”  
“You can’t be serious.”  
“I am.”

The two men stared at each other. The stranger gave in and prepared his equipment. Malcom grabbed Korann by the shoulder and sat him down on a chair and held him there. The man came back, needle and mallet in hand, hesitant. 

“What do you want me to do…?”  
“Do whatever across both his cheeks, make sure he will never be able to hide it.”

They spent the next three hours laboring over the small boy. Malcom holding him down, holding his face while the tattoo artist worked on him and wiped away the blood. The pain was unbearable and it took everything he had not to scream but he couldn't stop the whimpers stuck in his throat. His eyes glistened with tears, praying the maker to make it stop, but no matter how hard it got, Malcom would not.

He was left bloody, with symmetrical arabesque going from his temples to all over his cheeks. He was so tired. 

Malcom grabbed him by the arm and dragged him across the capital to the Chantry near the market. Everyone turned and stared in horror. They were so confused they didn’t act, and Korann was too afraid to ask for help. 

His father handed him over to the sisters who didn’t try to hold him back. Malcom left without even looking at his son and Korann watched him turn away, not daring to call out to him.


End file.
